


Overexposed

by sierraraeck



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Other, Spencer Reid Angst, Spencer Reid Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-25 04:00:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30083139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sierraraeck/pseuds/sierraraeck
Summary: After ending your relationship on rocky terms, you run into Spencer and try to find some closure. However, you might just find a bit more than you bargained for.
Relationships: Penelope Garcia & Spencer Reid, Penelope Garcia/Spencer Reid, Spencer Reid & Reader, Spencer Reid/Other(s), Spencer Reid/Reader, Spencer Reid/You
Kudos: 10





	1. Daylight

**Author's Note:**

> There are 4 stories based on four songs from Maroon 5’s album “Overexposed.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a long time without answers and your relationship ending on rocky terms, you run into Spencer and can finally put things to rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the song “Daylight” by Maroon 5. If you wanna give that a quick listen, go for it, if not, that’s chill too. Also, I tried to make this gender neutral, but if I did not, please let me know what I need to correct.

In one word, complicated.

Yes, that was a cliche and overused, but there was really no better way to describe your relationship with Spencer. Unless of course people preferred terms like arduous, intricate, convoluted, twisted, entangled, or your personal favorite, fucked up. Although, that might be a little harsh. Kind of. It was  _ complicated. _

And things continued on that path when you waltzed into the San Jose precinct, ready to defend your client against none other than the BAU. 

Despite being 28, you were already one of the most successful defense attorneys in the state, and had already had a couple run-ins with the FBI. Luckily, none of those had been against the ‘all-powerful’ behavioral analysis unit, and you were able to wrangle out some wins, or at least, the best you could have hoped for given the circumstances. This time, a man, Brayden Lee, had been arrested as a suspect for a series of strangulations, all of the victims tall, blonde, college athletes. Looking over his case and the amount of evidence against him, you felt sure that you could manage a favorable deal. 

But now, your strides faltered as you saw the team of profilers standing around in a circle, speaking in hushed voices, immediately turning around to watch you in. Well, it wasn’t necessarily  _ them _ that teetered your confidence, it was more like  _ him. _ And that damn hair.

> You were at your older brother’s graduation. A small, skinny kid with moppy brown curls walked across the stage, the gown he was wearing clearly three sizes too big for him. He looked really young, about your age, which immediately interested you.
> 
> “Spencer Reid,” the announcer called. He accepted his diploma, moved his tassel from one side to the other, and plopped right back down in his seat.
> 
> You just stared at him from your place high up in the bleachers, almost missing your brother as he walked across the stage. You clapped and cheered, but you still couldn’t tear your eyes from the strange kid who’d walked across moments before him. When the ceremony was over, you asked your brother who he was, and all he gave you was a shrug and an arched eyebrow. That was not exactly the answer you were looking for. So you took it upon yourself, being the awkwardly brave kid you were at 12, to find him and learn more. You ended up taking him home after the ceremony, and that was that. You still remember the dopey smile he gave you as he hopped out of the backseat, a smile that you would miss for three more years. 

You tried to compose yourself as you avoided eye contact with any of them, marching toward the interrogation room to have some time alone with your client. But it had never been this hard to concentrate before. 

_ Snap out of it. It’s been four fucking years, six if you really think about it, so you need to get it together. This man, the one right in front of your face, needs your help. _

So you did just that. As a lawyer, you had to have intense focus, so you made yourself hone in on that skill. The two older men of the team came in to have quite the nice chat with you and your client, but it ended fairly close to how you predicted. He would be let off, for now, but you would have to stay on call in case they found more evidence of your client’s guilt. You ushered Brayden out of the station and into a cab, telling him that you’d be in touch if anything else came up and to keep a low profile. 

You were ready to be done, but had to make sure there weren’t any other loopholes or things they weren’t telling you before you could leave. You trudged back into the precinct, expecting to talk to the two men you saw earlier, but found that once-nerdy boy you used to know waiting for you. Not to say he wasn’t still nerdy, you were sure he was, but he’d definitely changed since the last time you saw him. 

You tried to act as professional as possible, “Is there anything else that I need to know about this case and your evidence against my client?” Honestly, you were shocked at how calm your voice sounded. 

“As long as you’ve heard about his recent purchases and easy access to the material used to strangle these women, no,” he responded, just as casually. 

“Okay great, and nothing else in the profile I should be aware of?”

“Nope.”

“Alright then,” you said, turning on your heels to walk out.

“That’s it?” Spencer’s tone suddenly sounded confused, even accusatory, which was such a stark contrast to the smoothe, gentle voice you remembered. 

> You were at the local library studying for your midterms before the holiday break. No one really went there anymore, and there were a ton of good research tools available, so it was the perfect quiet study spot. Well, mostly quiet, that was, until the ever-so-irritating ping of books being checked out was going off non-stop. You’d had enough, so you shot over your shoulder, “Jesus, how many books do you need?”
> 
> The pinging immediately stopped, and you heard a small, “Sorry. Didn’t mean to bother you.”
> 
> It wasn’t a lot, but something about that voice seemed familiar. You turned fully around to see those piercing gold eyes staring at you, and you recognized those curls. 
> 
> “No way. You’re the kid who graduated high school at age twelve! I remember you,” you blurted before really thinking.
> 
> “Yeah. Hey (y/n),” he said.
> 
> “I’m so sorry I snapped at you like that…”
> 
> “Spencer,” he filled in, after hearing you hiss like a snake, trying to jog your memory of his name. 
> 
> “Spencer! Sorry about that, I’m just kinda stressed about my exams,” you explained.
> 
> “It’s okay, I understand,” Spencer replied, gesturing to his ever-growing pile of books. 
> 
> You inquired about how things were going for him, and he told you all about how his first year and a half in college had been, already obtaining his bachelor’s in mathematics. 
> 
> “That’s so impressive. Think you could help me?” you said in a somewhat mocking tone.
> 
> Of course, he took you seriously, not picking up on the half-joke. “Sure.”
> 
> Although, you were thrilled he offered, and the two of you spent the next couple of hours talking about high school and college classes, your seemingly easy math compared to his, and him helping you with any other subject you needed help with, like AP biology and psychology. At the end of the night, you gave him your phone number, trying to cover up your little crush with a joke about needing his help as you rushed out into the freezing night air. 
> 
> He never used it.

“Yeah. That’s it,” you shot over your shoulder. 

“(y/n), hold on, I-” he started.

“Doctor Reid, they need you in the conference room,” some lady said. Now  _ that _ caught your attention. You spun back around to look at him with raised eyebrows. His mouth was slightly agape, and his eyes flitted between you and the lady who told him he was needed. 

“What are you waiting for,  _ Doctor _ ,” you sneered. He let out a sigh, giving you one last pointed look before turning away. You didn’t even know people called him ‘doctor’ now. 

You returned home, hoping that the case would get cleared up easily, that they’d find a different culprit and you wouldn’t have to risk that floodgate of emotions bursting open. No such luck. They found Brayden at the scene of the crime, literally in the middle of digging up an old victim to do god knows what with, and took him back into custody. When you got back to the precinct, you told your client not to say a word, and asked what the charges were and if he was going to be transferred in the meantime. The answers to your questions were not in your favor, and you had one of the worst client-lawyer conversations you'd ever experienced. The man wouldn’t tell you a damn thing, and if he didn’t tell you anything, then you couldn’t help him. Of course, it was your job to try and help him as best as you could, but you whole-heartedly believed he was guilty too, which didn’t help you keep the right mindset. Plus, your heart was pounding into your ears for more reasons than being across the table from a serial killer. 

_ Focus, please, _ you begged yourself. And you did, for a while, but it became a futile effort. At one point you just wanted to say ‘fuck this shit, lock him up’ and leave, you were that desperate.

When it was all over and the station was getting everything together in order to transfer him to a holding facility, you tried to slip out the doors and wait outside. Only moments after, though, you heard the door squeak back open.

“(y/n),” Spencer started.

“I’m sorry,” you quickly interjected. You had been contemplating for the last day or so if you needed to apologize, and just figured you would, if not for your sake, for your clients’. I mean, they would probably end up testifying at some point, not like that was the main thought going through your mind, but you convinced yourself it was. “I shouldn’t have conducted myself like that earlier. It was unprofessional and you were just trying to talk to me.”

“It’s fine. I probably deserved it,” he acknowledged. 

“Probably, but that’s all in the past and I should have left it there,” you concluded. You both stood in absolute silence until it became too much to bear. You decided you’d at least  _ try _ to act natural, “So how have things been since the last time I saw you?”

Spencer looked at you with surprised eyes, but answered with, “They’ve been interesting. There always seems to be a new case. How about you?”

“Same. Just one after the other, but it’s nice knowing I’m helping people,” you added. 

“Yeah,” he agreed. 

_ Come on, what else can you throw out there? _ “Uh, so, they call you ‘doctor’ now?”

He offered a small laugh. “Yeah, they do. When I started, you know, I was much younger than anyone else in the bureau-”

“Still are,” I interjected. 

He continued, “-true, but one of my mentors, who’s gone now, told people to call me that and I guess it just stuck.” 

“Well, it sounds nice.”

“Thanks. I hear you are doing pretty well yourself, getting national mentions and such,” he stated. 

You raised your eyebrows, “You heard about that?” A year or so back you got recognized as the top rising talent in your field of work, but you didn’t think that news would make it to the other coast.  _ Unless he was specifically looking for that information…  _

“Yeah, I did. The FBI likes to keep tabs on people that might cause them the most trouble in a case, you being one of them.”

“Seriously?” You were astonished. The FBI was keeping tabs on  _ you _ ? “Why?”

“Just in case they get tired of opposing you and would rather work with you,” he shrugged, “But you seem to be having fun opposing right now.”

You let a smile reach the surface at that. “That obvious, huh?”

“I’m a profiler. Plus, you’ve always had a thing for opposing the ‘overbearing’ power and sticking up for the little guy.”

That was a little too close to home. You knew he meant that in more ways than one, and you couldn’t help but think about that god-awful night when you were just two kids trying to take a walk in the moonlight. The night that solidified your friendship. 

> It happened so fast. All you did was walk away for a second to throw your trash away, but that was all it took for the boys to pounce. Spencer had been attending CalTech for three years, and you were there to pop into the chemistry class, which you conveniently had with Spencer. Those other 20 year olds hated you and Spencer for the sole reason that you were two nerdy 17 year olds that were making them look bad. They’d already gotten in a few good punches before you returned, but when you did, you were livid. They were holding Spencer up while taking turns at him. You worked quickly, setting your phone to record before stepping in between one of the boys and Spencer. You hadn’t intended on getting caught in the crossfire, but you did, landing yourself a pretty bruise on your cheek for the next two weeks. You yelled at them about how they were assaulting a minor and how you now had all of their faces on tape, along with some other legal shit. One of them smashed your phone and went for another punch, but you kicked him in the throat before he could get to you, putting him flat on his ass. He tapped out, and you later found out he’d gotten whiplash from how he landed on the ground. They ran off, and when you turned around, Spencer collapsed in your arms. He was littered with cuts, blood, and already developing bruises. You took him back to his dorm and cleaned him up, spending the night before figuring out how to recover the footage. Once you did, you showed it to the board members, effectively expelling the boys and bringing them up on charges for assault. They got convicted, and no one screwed with either of you again. That was the moment you really decided to become a lawyer. 

“Yeah, I guess I have,” you murmured. Brayden was brought out in cuffs and shoved into the back of a squad car, which was your cue to get moving. You had a full case on your hands.

You turned to leave, but as you did, Spencer stopped you. “Hey, would you maybe want to catch up later?”

You didn’t remember him ever being so bold before, and were caught off guard by the question. You stumbled out, “Uh, what did you have in mind?”

“Just … coffee, maybe?”

“Sure,” you said, and immediately saw Spencer’s shoulders relax. “Do you still remember where Arnette’s is?”

“Of course,” he responded. That used to be your favorite go-to spot. 

“Alright then. I should be done with this at around eight,” you said, hopping into your car before he could respond. The officer with Brayden had already sped away, and you needed to stay close behind. 

The whole drive you kicked yourself for saying yes. You were getting over him. You  _ had _ gotten over him. And you loved Jordan and couldn’t help feeling like this was somehow betraying him. Plus, why should you be meeting him to catch up? He hadn’t been interested in that for five years! I mean, you put everything into making your relationship work. Sure, you were realistic that it wouldn’t last, but he could have at least  _ tried _ . 

> You had it planned out. You would keep in touch until you could go out and visit him during the summer for Fourth of July during your sophomore year of college. The next year, he’d visit you, and the one after that, you’d visit him and so on. But that was the problem. There was no ‘so on.’ You visited him for the second time and that was it. And pretty soon, you could barely get him to pick up the damn phone. The last thing you heard from him was that he was pretty busy starting out with the BAU, along with an unanswered text wondering how his first case went. 

But, you already agreed, so you might as well just see what happens.

You threw on some nice, non-work clothes and drove to the little shop on the corner. God you felt like a teenager.

It was just before eight and Spencer was already there waiting for you. Of course he was.

You took a deep breath, reminding yourself that this was supposed to be two people who used to care about each other, and honestly still do, just catching up. Simply talking. About the  _ present _ , no need to worry about the  _ past _ .

“Hey, (y/n).” You always liked the way he said your name with welcoming confidence.

“Hey,” you replied. He opened the door for you and you shuffled in. With no surprise, you were the only two in there, and he went ahead and ordered for both of you, remembering what you wanted with ease. You gave him a bit of a confused look as you waited for your drinks.

“What?” he asked, clearly uncomfortable by your staring.

“Nothing, it’s just that you remember my order, that’s all.”

“I  _ do  _ have a really good memory,” he reminded you.

“Yeah, but you also told me once that that only went for visuals, and your eidetic memory didn’t really work on audio,” you quipped.

“That’s true. I guess some things just stick. Plus, it’s not like you made it hard on me. You always ordered the same thing.”

You laughed a little, “I guess that’s true.”

You grabbed your drinks and left the hole-in-the-wall, autopilot kicking in, taking you both along the path that went around the park. Spencer sighed.

“Hm?” you questioned.

“Just, you know, thinking,” he said, brows furrowed.

“About what?”

“How we used to do this all the time. You’d finish your high school classes, drive over to CalTech for chemistry, and then afterward we’d stop by for coffee and a walk,” his voice sounded like he was in a dream, and he looked into the night air as if there was some answer or memory floating around out there. I guess there was a memory floating around out here.

“Yeah those were crazy years,” you recalled. “I felt like I was constantly on the move and everything was happening all at once and I had all of this stuff I needed to get done. But this was always a nice place where I could clear my head and forget all of that.” That feeling was starting to return as you kept walking, the sticky air of California clinging to your skin. 

“It was nice. I miss those days sometimes,” he said.

_ What is he getting at? _ “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

You walked in silence for a while, but you could see Spencer’s posture tense up more with each step. There was something on his mind and he wasn’t telling you.

“What is it?”

“What is what?” he acted bewildered.

“What’s on your mind?” He tried to shrug it off and deny it, but you knew him better than that. It might have been a while, but some things, like he said, just stick. And the way his body acted when he was thinking was one of them. “Don’t even try that. I know when there is something bothering you, now out with it.”

“Who is it?” That was all he offered and it was your turn to be confused.

“Huh?”

“Who has the other one?” he said, voice a bit harsher than before, motioning to the gold ring around your finger.

“His name is Jordan.”

“Jordan, huh?”

“Yep.”

“What does he do?” Spencer inquired.

“He’s also a lawyer. We actually met in law school,” you answered somewhat hesitant. You still didn’t know what he was getting at, if anything. 

“Oh. Nice.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” your attitude starting to flare up. 

“Absolutely nothing. Just not what I thought,” he stated with a bit of an edge to his voice.

“What did you think?” You were trying not to get offended by whatever he was implying, but you couldn’t help it.  _ He asks me to catch up just to make passive aggressive criticisms? _

“I don’t know. Not that, I guess.”

At this point, you wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him. “Well, you know, you could have changed that,” you replied in the same passive aggressive manner.

“What would you have wanted me to do?” his voice was raising, obviously picking up on what you were putting down.

“Uh, I don’t know, how about respond to one goddamned text?”

“I tried.”

“Not really. And then you just went dark,” you spat.

“You seemed to be fine with that. You moved on pretty quickly,” he hissed, not even bothering to look at you.

“Why do you think that is, genius? I visited you, and then you stopped answering my calls. You stopped responding to my texts. I basically never heard from you again, and then the next thing I know, your showing up on my fucking tv,  _ in California _ for a case, and you don’t even reach out. You didn’t even  _ ask _ to meet up anywhere, not even stop by to say hey. Nothing. You did  _ nothing _ once your job swallowed you up whole. I know what that’s like and it’s hard, believe me, I’m a  _ lawyer  _ for Chrissake, but I found the time. Plus, for all I knew, you had already found someone else, so I wasn’t going to wait around for the guy who seemed to love me much less than I loved him.” By the end, I was yelling, and thanking the stars above us that no one was around to hear it.

“You’re right,” he whispered after a while.

You were stunned, and could only manage a small, “What?”

“You’re right,” he repeated. “I should have put in more effort. I don’t know, (y/n), I wish I had a better answer for you but I don’t. I was young, and stupid, and I didn’t know what I was doing. I let my insecurities get in the way of us, and I will never be able to forgive myself for that.”

“What?” It was seriously the only thing going through your mind, however, you were able to force out, “Insecurities?”

“Yeah. I was worried that because I was away, you were going to tire of me, that you weren’t going to want to stay in a relationship. I thought that maybe, by being ‘tied’ to me, so to speak, that I was holding you back, which we promised each other we would never do. We said that we would never get in the way of the other’s dream, and I wondered if maybe I was going to do that to you. I just … I had all of these  _ doubts, _ so I panicked. I stopped responding. And I was so wrong to do that.”

Now that he’d said them, they sounded like some of the same doubts he expressed to you the night before he left.

> “What time is your flight?”
> 
> “Seven, which means I have to be there by six, which means I have to be leaving here by four-thirty at the latest,” he recited. He had all of his stuff piled by the door, which was hardly anything at all. You were in his hotel room because his house was soon to be taken over by a young couple, since he’d be living in Massachusetts, and his mother was in a mental facility. You’d just come back from visiting her, which left Spencer in tears.
> 
> You ate dinner while playing chess, which he effectively beat you at. You were actually pretty good at it, but no match for his math-based brain. You snuggled into bed next to him, willing yourself to keep it together because the last thing you wanted to do was spend your last night with him an emotional wreck. He queued up a movie, but neither of you paid any attention to it. His arm was draped around your shoulders and yours were clasped around his waist. 
> 
> Spencer’s hand lazily circled your back until it moved with purpose down to your thigh. He continued his lazy patterns when you looked up at him, a question in your eyes.
> 
> You’d been with Spencer for over a year, and recalled your first time. You were ready before he was, which came as no surprise, but that didn’t stop the nerves from racing through your head. But if you thought  _ you _ were nervous, you had no  _ idea  _ what was going through Spencer’s head. He later told you that he was absolutely terrified because he didn’t want to do something wrong, and he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, and he didn’t want you to think less of him because of his body style, and a million other things that he was scared about. That’s how you accidentally said the ‘L’ word. “Spencer Reid, I would never judge you and you could never scare me away. I love you and your body and your brain, and you are not going to do something wrong, not like I’d know because we are both new to this and are doing it together. Understand?” 
> 
> He gave you a shy smile. “I do.”
> 
> Now though, it was very different. Comfortable, confident, safe.
> 
> “Can I have you?” he asked, “All of you, one last time?”
> 
> You leaned up to kiss him, and he sighed when you pulled away. You looked him straight in the eyes, “I’m all yours.”
> 
> And you were. You felt like you always had been and probably always would be, and could only hope that he felt a fraction of the same. Your bodies pushed and pulled in perfect unison, fitting together as if you were two pieces of a puzzle, specifically crafted for the other.
> 
> You returned to your curled up position beside him, and you couldn’t hold it in anymore. The tears silently flowed out of your eyes, but you couldn’t make yourself peel your arms away from him long enough to wipe them away. You attempted to sob without making a sound, knowing that if Spencer saw you crying, it would make him cry, and he couldn’t cry because it would make you cry more, splitting you right in half. It didn’t matter how quiet you were being about it, because when you looked up at Spencer, you saw the same silent tears glistening on his cheeks. It was only then that you pulled your hands from around him and brushed away his tears.
> 
> “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring the mood down,” you apologized. “This is supposed to be exciting. You’re going to the best school in the country to get your PhD.”
> 
> “It’s okay,” he replied, moving his hands up and down your arms, “Sometimes, I wonder if I’m making the right decision.”
> 
> This took you by surprise. He’d always seemed confident about this, passionate about furthering his education. “What makes you say that?”
> 
> “I don’t know. I guess I just don’t want to complicate things for anyone. For my mother. For  _ you. _ ”
> 
> “If I asked you to stay, would you?” You knew it was unfair, but it was the only thing you could think to say. The only thing you _wanted_ to say. You needed him, and it was sickening wondering if soon, he might not need you. He stared at you dumbfoundedly, so you quickly covered it up with, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that. You are about to start a whole new part of your life, and you should go, pursue your dreams with the best education this country can offer. I don’t wanna get in the way of that.”
> 
> You repositioned yourself back on his chest, and started to drift off to sleep when you felt him sigh. You lazily peered up at him, meeting his restless eyes. “Spence, you need to sleep.”
> 
> “I can sleep on the plane. I need this more,” he said, smiling at you. You tried to stay awake like you knew Spencer would, but to no avail. You did, however, wake up to him getting ready to leave. He kissed you goodbye, and you held yourself together until he’d walked out, the door shutting with a definite ‘click.’ 
> 
> All the air had been stripped from your lungs and you felt like you couldn’t breathe, like you’d never again without him by your side. You cried yourself back to sleep, willing this all to be one giant nightmare, but when you woke, he was gone. And you felt completely numb. So while you may have been two pieces of a puzzle, aiming to create the same beautiful picture, you no longer fit together.

You felt yourself starting to get flushed from constantly going in and out of anger then feeling bad and forgiving. It was exhausting, and probably part of the reason things didn’t work out between the two of you. That didn’t mean you loved him any less, though. He was, in fact, your first love, and you guess people were right about that stuff being more powerful and affecting you longer. Hell, you walked into the precinct for a total of three seconds before he was affecting you all over again!

You took a deep breath in before saying, “I guess we both made mistakes and wished we would have handled things differently.”

“What would you have handled differently?” He sounded genuinely curious.

“When I saw that you were in California for a case, instead of … doing what I did, I should have been the one who reached out. I could have just asked you then what was going through your mind and what was going on between us. Who knows how that might have changed things? But, I was petty,” you gave a cold laugh, “I guess I still am sometimes, huh?”

You had definitely been acting that way lately. You felt guilty and ashamed about it, but in that moment of anger four years ago, knowing that Spencer was out there ignoring you, you sent him a hurtful message and then blocked his number. Only a week or so prior, you’d met Jordan who was clearly hitting on you, and you were so firm about moving on that you asked him out. He eagerly agreed, and the rest was history. Or, at least, you thought was history. 

Spencer shrugged and dodged the somewhat rhetorical question. “We can’t really dwell on that now.”

You knew he didn’t really mean that, considering he was the type of person who dwelled, but he  _ was _ right. You were engaged to a great guy and soon to be married. This,  _ Spencer _ , was something you were just going to have to come to terms with, something you realized you  _ hadn't  _ come to terms with yet. 

You’d been walking so absentmindedly next to him that you hardly noticed you were outside of a hotel. He stopped just outside the lobby entrance and turned to face you. 

“Walk you to your room?” you offered.  _ What the fuck did you just say? Why did you say that? You can’t say things like that. Stop it.  _

Spencer gave you that small, closed lip smile of his which immediately ended your inner scolding, and nodded, holding the door open for you. You walked up the stairs together in silence. When you reached his door, instead of getting out his card, he leaned his back up against the heavy wood.

“Alright, well, it was nice catching up, and I wish you safe travels in the morning,” you said, turning to leave. He quickly reached out and grabbed your hand, stopping you in your tracks, and you spun around to face him.

“If I asked you to stay, would you?” Those words pierced through your ears, ringing all too familiar from when it was you who said them. 

“Spence-” you started. And then his lips were on yours. Those sweet, soft lips. It had always been so natural between the two of you, and you felt his tongue bypass yours as you pushed further into the kiss. Then you remember where, and  _ when _ , you were, no longer that hopelessly devoted kid but an adult with a wonderful man waiting for you when you got home. You pulled away. “Spence-”

“I would have said yes, you know,” he confessed. The question must have been etched on your face, because he continued, “When you asked me that night, given the chance, I would have said yes.”

His words stung, and your whole body ached from rehashing old feelings, to igniting new ones, to the guilt of what just happened weighing on you so heavily you might just crumble beneath it. You murmured out, “Why didn’t you?”

“I thought you were right. I thought I was doing the right thing. Out of all the mistakes I’ve made, all the regrets I have, you, (y/n) (y/l/n), are my biggest one.” His honey brown eyes peered right into yours, like he was looking at something far greater than just your eyes, and repeated, “So right now, if I asked you to stay with me, would you?”

It was too much to handle. After all the time you’d spent wishing he was still yours, he finally could be, but you could no longer be his. Tears were streaming down your face as they once did, the first time you lost him, and you choked out, “I can’t.”


	2. One More Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a continuation of Daylight. Spencer stays in town after the case to try and convince you to give him one more night, and one last chance, to change your mind before marrying another man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the song “One More Night” by Maroon 5. If you wanna give that a quick listen, go for it, if not, that’s chill too. Also, I tried to make this gender neutral, but if I did not, please let me know what I need to correct.

What you had feared finally happened. The floodgates had opened. Not just opened, but blown apart, letting the roaring water take over, sweeping away everything in its path. Potentially including the nice life you’d just created for yourself. 

And to Spencer’s credit, he was very persistent.

You walked away from that hotel room in a mess of tears. Telling the man you’d loved for years that you can’t be with him was an emotional load you were not ready, nor willing, to carry. It took you the entire car ride, the long way home, and two extra loops around your neighborhood before you felt calm enough to go inside and face Jordan.

Jordan.

The endearing, handsome, smart, loving, and appreciative man you were set to marry in just a few weeks. And now you felt like a terrible person who didn’t deserve him because of this  _ Spencer problem, _ and your sort of emotional cheating. Not to mention the kiss. Which you let happen. But you did pull away right? You did reality check the situation and you did walk away. That counted for something right? You chose Jordan.

You pulled into the garage, and with one final deep breath, you walked into your small, but cozy, house. The smell hit your nose before anything else, and you knew before having to enter the kitchen that he was making his famous lasagna and homemade garlic bread. God, he spoiled you sometimes. 

“Wow, would you smell that,” you said with an exaggerated breath in, dropping your bag and shoes at the door. 

“Atrocious, isn’t it? Good thing I’ve gone noseblind by now,” he turned around as you approached the kitchen, giving you a sweet, welcome home kiss. “You didn’t eat, right? I knew you were going out with that old friend of yours, but I couldn’t remember if that was for food or just - hey, everything okay?”

You tried to hide the slight panic from your voice when replying, “Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

He shook his head, “Uh, I mean, your eyes just look a little puffy that’s all.”

“Oh, yeah. It was a bit of a rough day today,” you admitted.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did something happen with that friend of yours?” he questioned.

_ Yes. _ “No, not like that.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really. How was your day?” you asked. He launched into a story about how the new girl at work couldn’t seem to get anything right, and how he questioned if she even actually went to law school or not. You assured him that she’d get better with time.  _ Everything gets better with time. Right? _

You let him finish his cooking and the two of you sat down together for dinner, talking about work and friends and then he brought up wedding planning. Which you weren’t really in the mood or mindset for. And to make matters worse, he had to go and get all sweet on you.

“God, I can’t wait to get married. Sometimes I still wake up and can’t believe it’s real. I choose you, for the rest of my life, and I can’t wait until you officially choose me too. I hope you know that,” he said with a twinkle in his eyes. 

He could always make you feel better, even when you didn’t feel you deserved it. “I do know that, and I love you, Jordan. So much.”

* * *

When you woke up, you felt much happier than you did the night before. Jordan was everything you wanted and more than you could hope for. Spencer was going back across the country to his job, and you were going back to yours. 

Or so you thought.

When you arrived at work, you walked toward your office only to be frantically stopped by one of the interns who was currently under your supervision. “Uh, sorry to bother you, but there’s someone waiting for you in your office.”

“What? I didn’t forget a meeting did I?” you panicked.

“Oh, no, this is just some random guy. He told me he knew you and I couldn’t really stop him from coming in,” she said.

“O-okay. Thank you,” you said, and brushed by her, your curiosity driving you to your office even before you stopped for your morning coffee. You practically threw open the door and froze in your tracks. 

That was not just some random guy waiting for you in your office.

“What are you doing here?”

Spencer looked up at you from the chair across your desk that usually seated clients or co-workers. “Sorry for showing up out of the blue. Can we talk? I brought coffee.”

He gave you a small smile and gestured toward the cup sitting on your desk.  _ Can we talk? That’s always a good sign. _

You snapped out of the minor trance you’d been in, shutting your office door and crossing the room to sit in your chair. You took a long sip of your coffee under Spencer’s watchful eye. “What can I help you with?” You did everything in your power not to sigh.

“No, nothing like that,” he said, breaking you out of your attorney-client attitude. “I just - I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, so you just looked at him, inviting him to continue. Luckily he did, breaking the silence, “I know that you have something with Jordan-”

“-we’re engaged, yes,” you corrected him. It wasn’t just ‘something.’ It was a serious commitment.

“Right. You and him are  _ engaged _ , and I know that there isn’t much I can do or say, but I’m asking you to give me a chance.”

“A chance for what?” you questioned. You were confused, and tired of being so considering you thought you’d just passed the only bit of confusion you would experience. 

“A chance to change your mind. To make sure that you are making the right decision,” he stated.

Your mouth was hanging open.  _ Is he seriously asking me on a date right now? _ “Spencer, I am making the right decision. And are you asking me out?”

“I guess so. And if you are making the right decision with Jordan, then this should change nothing. If by the end of it, you feel nothing for me and you know that you want to be with Jordan for the rest of your life, then I did everything I can, and I know you are happy. But if that is not the case, and you still have feelings for me too, then…” he trailed off, followed by a sigh, “All I’m asking is that you give me one more night.”

“You are asking me to cheat on my fiance.”

“No, I am asking you to give me one more night, one more chance, to change your mind.”

He stared at you with intense eyes, searching yours for an answer. You sat there, trying to process everything that was happening, weighing your options.  _ I can’t do this, right? It’ll basically be like going on a date when I’m about to get married. But he did say that if I’m confident in Jordan, which I am, this won’t change anything. And it won’t. If he needs this to know that he did everything he could, to give him some peace and closure, what’s the harm? It won’t do anything except give him some piece of mind. I’ll do this for his benefit. And how bad could just one night be? _

“Fine,” you said, and his lips immediately turned up, “I’ll be out of here by six, hopefully.”

“I’ll be waiting for you,” he said simply, getting up to head towards the door. 

“You’re not going to tell me where we’re meeting?”

“No. It’s a surprise. I’ll pick you up from work?”

You let out another sigh, but tried to cover it with, “Alright.”

He shot you one last smile before exiting your office, and you couldn’t help but return it. But only a little bit.

* * *

You were expecting yourself to dread the end of the day, knowing that whatever happened tonight wouldn’t end well, but in spite of yourself, you were actually looking forward to it. The day couldn’t go by fast enough actually, and you were out of the office the moment the clock hit six. You quickly sent Jordan a text explaining that you were very busy with work, and would have to stay late. You felt guilty lying to him. He deserved your honesty, but he also deserved your undivided love and attention. Telling him about some stupid little one-time ‘closure’ thing for an old flame before you got married was not what he needed to hear. So you slowly descended the stairs to the lobby, and reminded yourself:  _ This is for Spencer’s benefit, it won’t change my mind, I’m only giving him one more night, and that’s it. _

You reached the lobby and looked around for that fluffy head of hair you knew had to be there somewhere. Then you felt a small tap on your right shoulder, and turned in that direction. The moment you noticed no one was there, you knew what was going on. You rolled your eyes as you dramatically turned to your left and huffed, “I hate you.”

“Or so you claim,” Spencer said, beaming. He could always get you with that one, no matter how many times he did it to you. It was infuriating, but somewhat endearing to see his goofy smile every time you fell for it. “You never learn.”

“Yeah, because no other normal person does that to people on a regular basis,” you defended.

“(y/n), when have we ever been normal?” You raised your eyebrows. He had a point. 

He ushered you out of the building and toward the parking lot. “Where are we going?”

“I told you. It’s a surprise,” he said, opening up the passenger side door for you. 

“Spencer, you don’t have to-”

“I want to. Please, (y/n), let me do this for you.” With that, you got in the car, and surrendered your evening to the whim of Doctor Spencer Reid. 

Now, you knew California pretty well. Grew up and lived there your entire life. Yet, somehow, wherever Spencer was taking you was in a direction that was unfamiliar, and what you could grasp at around you didn’t point to some destination spot that you would consider a ‘destination spot.’

Thirty minutes in, and the scenery looked as though you were headed to the woods, which didn’t make sense since that was not at all Spencer’s scene, and it made you realize you were probably inappropriately dressed in your work clothes. You gave Spencer a questioning side eye, and you saw him suppress a smirk. Only a couple minutes later, the trees cleared a bit, revealing a charming little town. And by little, you mean  _ little _ . Like a total of ten or so establishments little. 

Spencer moseyed on over to a white box of a building with a glistening sign reading “California’s Best Italian.” You gave Spencer yet another look when he parked the car, but he still didn’t offer you more than a small smile. As you both got out of the car, you rolled your eyes and skeptically asked, “California’s best Italian, huh?”

“Only the best for you,” he replied. He saw the seriousness in your eyes and assured, “It is vastly underrated, trust me.”

So you did just that, walking into the building with Spencer. The entire dining room, which was surprisingly bigger than you’d imagined from the outside, was empty. The hostess waiting at the front of the door smiled at the two of you, and led you to an already set table. It had all the classics: white table cloth, candle and a few roses in the middle, two awaiting glasses of champagne. It was cliche as hell, but nevertheless stunning. As you sat down you realized that, while you’d been on amazing dates with Jordan and they were all adventurous and unconventional, that you’d never had the ‘out-of-the-movies’ dinner date experience. 

You were impressed, to say the least, and whispered, “How’d you pull this off?”   
“We may or may not have worked a case here a while back. They said we could cash in a favor any time we’d like for helping them. This was mine,” he sheepishly admitted. You did everything you could to not gape at him, but you're sure his trained eye could read you anyway. 

“Spencer, seriously you didn’t have to-”

“I know. You keep saying that, but I wanted to,” he reminded you in the same way he did earlier that evening. 

The same smiley hostess that met you at the door earlier returned with menus, and there was a twinkle in her eye that made you wonder just what Spencer had told them this was. Not like you’d ever ask. You weren’t even sure you wanted the answer. 

You looked over the menu and ordered shrimp fettuccine while Spencer ordered a classic spaghetti. 

“Still with the simple classics,” you tutted.

“You can never go wrong with them. Especially spaghetti,” he said, eyes getting wider with a purpose. You had to let out a slight laugh at his childlike giddiness at something so trivial as spaghetti. But that was just Spencer. Sharing facts and getting happy over the little things. It was kinda refreshing to see, especially considering the dark nature of both of your jobs. 

When dinner was served, it smelled amazing. You practically moaned at your first bite, and apologized for underestimating the small diner. You had to agree: they really did have the best Italian food in California. 

Conversation with Spencer started a little rocky, the two of you getting reacquainted with each other before it started to flow like you’d never spent time apart. You related on the work front, and talked about friends and co-workers. You laughed about past and present things, and for a moment, you forgot there was a world outside this time-warped one that Spencer had created for the two of you. It was just so natural; you always knew it had been. Your quirks and his quirks complimented each other, and the way you’d both grown into older versions of your nerdy college selves but with somewhat better social skills was almost amusing. You were both entirely invested in your jobs, and you could see just how much he cared about everyone. The families he worked tirelessly for, and those he worked tirelessly with. And you. God, he cared about you so much, it had to have been squeezing his heart into oblivion. 

When you both finished your meal and your champagne, Spencer stood up and offered you his hand. You took it, standing up, and gave him a questioning look. Dining and dashing was not in Spencer’s fortey, so without really knowing what to do, you reached for your credit card. 

“Oh, no,” the waitress said with a grin, “This was on the house.”

“That’s very sweet, but really I can-” you started, waving your card around.

“No, seriously. Anything for Doctor Reid and his  _ company _ ,” she insisted, still grinning with an eyebrow raise. You returned her smile, trying to hide the slight confusion on your face. Now you  _ really  _ wanted to know what Spencer had told them this was. 

“Come on,” Spencer whispered, coaxing you out of the restaurant. 

Once you exited, you asked, “You really must have saved their asses for them to treat you like that.”

“I may have down played just what happened to this town,” he admitted, “but it’s not that important. Unless you want to hear about it.”

“I could go for a brief synopsis,” you shrugged.

“About a year ago, this town had one of the worst serial killers we’ve ever seen. By the time we got here, there were already six bodies and counting. He moved fast and we found out that his real target was the owner of that restaurant. We saved them with only seconds to spare, and I was the one with the final shot. It’s a family business, so they were all very relieved and grateful we saved their family and their life’s work.” He said it so casually you gaped at him. You knew how modest he could be, but he really couldn’t see how heroic he sounded. He must’ve been uncomfortable by your staring, because he followed with, “What? What is it?”

“Just, you say that like it happens every day.”   
“Well, it is my job, so it does kind of happen frequently,” he pointed out.

“Okay, yeah, but not for the everyday person. Those people see you as their knight in shining armor, Spencer. I think you should indulge yourself in that every now and then,” you advised.

“I am no one’s ‘knight and shining armor,’” he replied, shaking his head.

“Don’t be like that,” you scolded, and he looked at you with a serious face, “You catch the bad guy. You can’t get more heroic than that. Plus, you are keeping people from all over the country safe, not to mention keeping me employed.”

He offered a small laugh at that, and continued walking down the road past the car.

“What are you doing? The car’s right here?” you questioned.

“I know,” he said with a cheeky smile. 

“So we’re walking,” you phrased it more as a statement than a question. You only got a nod in response. “Seriously? You’re still not going to tell me where we’re going, are you?” He just shook his head as his smile grew. “I don’t know why I agreed to this,” you joked.

“Come on, you love surprises,” he said.

“Yeah, because usually I already have a good idea what’s going to happen,” you quipped. 

He rolled his eyes. “Then maybe you should have been the profiler.”

You laughed, “Yeah, no. I’m good where I am, thanks. I’ll leave the whole guns, shooting criminals, flying across the country at 2am thing to you.”

“I feel very certain you have your fair share of 2am work nights.”

“Oh I do. I’m just at home sipping coffee in my sweats, not in work clothes on a plane to the middle of nowhere,” you acknowledged, and he put his hands up as to say ‘touche.’ “But hey, the next time I’m up at 2am, I’ll be sure to take comfort in the fact that at least someone else is too, probably going over files just like me.”

“Yeah, that, and that you have better coffee than us,” he said, as we stepped off the main road and in the direction of the trees. You didn’t take Spencer for an ‘outdoorsy’ kinda guy either, in fact, you knew he wasn’t unless things had drastically changed in six years, but you kept your mouth shut. Mainly because you were, and you knew he was trying to make things fun for you. Once you got to a certain point, Spencer stopped and turned to face you. “Close your eyes.” You opened your mouth to whine about the ‘surprise’ thing again, but he cut you off before you had the chance. “Trust me, okay?”

Without another word, you closed your eyes with a sigh. He led you slowly through the trees, fingers laced through yours, narrating the landscape to make sure you wouldn’t trip or lose your footing. 

“Almost there,” he said, taking a few more paces forward before coming to a complete stop. “Okay, you can open your eyes now.”

When you did, you were blinded by the beauty before you. There was a half circle of rock surrounding you with a waterfall coming from the opposite side. It hit the sugar-white sand below it, trailing into the small aqua pond, which opened up to the beach from between rocks and palm trees. On top of that, there was a warm sunset turning the wispy clouds shades of reds, oranges, and yellows. It was straight out of a movie, or a dream, and you honestly couldn’t believe it was real. 

“What do you think?” Spencer asked in a small voice from beside you, and you realized you hadn’t done anything except gasp since you saw it.

“Spence, this is - this is incredible. You really outdid yourself,” you said, and he had. It was breathtaking. “How’d you find this place?”

“It’s a small town secret, I guess. We found it when we were here.”

“Oh, please don’t tell me you found a body here or something,” you grimaced. 

“No! Definitely not!” Spencer clarified, “I just remembered you always mentioning wanting to go to a nice, small, secluded beach. This isn’t exactly a beach, but it is very close to one and definitely secluded.” You relaxed even more with that information, and Spencer led you over to the edge of the water, hand still enveloped in yours. 

_ Don’t get carried away. Remember, this is just for his benefit _ . You released his hand, giving him a small smile, and walked over to the waterfall. He followed, and looked up at it with the same awed look you did. “You know, to qualify as a waterfall, only one segment of the falls must be at least five feet high. Most generally accepted waterfalls must be located on a river, creek, or stream that provides a source of water at least annually. This one is on the shorter side of average height at about 25 feet, and comes off of a stream from above. The largest waterfall in the world is Angel Falls with a total height of 3,212 feet, but plunge falls are known to have taller average heights. This one here is a punchbowl waterfall, because it descends into a constricted form, and then spreads out in a wider pool. Usually-” he suddenly cut himself off, looking down. “Uh, sorry.”

You snapped your eyes over to him, “Have you forgotten who you are talking to?”

“What?”

You repeated yourself, enunciating each word carefully, “Have you forgotten who you are talking to?” Spencer looked up at you, but with no answer. “We initially connected because you could answer every single question I had for you, no matter the subject, whether I needed help with it or not. We finally got to the point where I didn’t even have to ask anymore, because all you had to do was look at my face and know that I needed answers, answers you always had. There’s no need to apologize. You know I enjoy your facts,” you emphasized. 

He smiled at you and finished his waterfall facts when he finished with, “... and today, many people enjoy going swimming near or around waterfalls. Especially the punchbowl kind.”

You raised your eyebrows, “Is that an invitation Spencer Reid?”

“It could be if you wanted it to be,” he agreed sheepishly. 

“Well, then what are we waiting for,” you teased. You marched over to a dry, flat rock and stripped off your work clothes, only keeping your underwear on. You then waded out into the water, all the while Spencer just watching you, seemingly paralyzed. You encouraged, “Spence, get out here!”

He started to make a move in the same direction you’d left your stuff, saying, “Yeah, yeah. I’m coming.” He tried to add some enthusiasm to his voice, but you knew he really wasn’t a fan of the water. Or the sand for that matter. Or interacting with nature as much as swimming required. But nevertheless, he discarded his clothes and padded toward the little ‘punchbowl’ as he just educated you on. 

And then a thought popped into your head, “Spencer, have you ever been to the beach before? Like, have you gone swimming at the beach?”

His eyes snapped to yours, and he shook his head just a little. “It just usually seems … unsanitary. You know, the average number of people who visit the beach is year is around-”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure it’s astronomical. Look, I know you kinda hate the water and the beach and stuff, but don’t worry, I am here to help,” you assured. You wadded toward him where the water was only about shin-high and held out your hand. “Do you remember a long time ago when you first told me you’d never been to the beach?”

He nodded. “It was close to one of the first things you asked me.”

“It was. And you told me you hadn’t. And do you remember what I told you?”

“You said, ‘I am determined to be the first person you go to the beach with. I promise I will make your beach-going experience great, and I have a strong feeling you will start to enjoy it.’”

“Exactly. So, are you ready?” you asked.

“For what?” Instead of answering, you slowly coaxed him further into the water. He shivered a bit as the cool water surrounded his hips.

“Don’t worry. You’re body will adjust,” you smiled, even though he probably already had plenty of stats on that, too. He paused for just a second as you got deeper into the water, which caused you to turn and face him completely. He heaved a breath, but then continued, you taking both of his hands in yours, walking backward farther into the water until it was up to your neck. The water pooled around Spencer's shoulders, and you said contently, “See? It’s not too bad is it?”

“I guess not. Not when you’re here to help me,” he smiled. 

You tried to shake off the feelings coursing through your veins, composed yourself, and replied, “Good.” Then, without warning, you dove out into the middle of the water. When you came to the surface, you shook your hair out and had to laugh at the way Spencer was staring at you. 

You didn’t even have to prompt him to understand the look in your eyes. “No.”

“Yes.”

“No. I am not that person.”

You smirked at him, “You are now, Mathlete.”

He rolled his eyes at your old nickname for him, but he pushed farther out into the water. He came all the way out to you, at least somewhat knowing how to tread water, when you brought your wet hands up to his hair. With little droplets of water running down the side of his neck and jaw and your hands still in his hair, he went completely under water. Once he was under, his hands were at your thighs, and a whole new set of feelings clouded into your head. When he came back up, he was only inches from your face, your hands behind his head and his on your back. And then your lips were on each other’s, moving with a mind of their own. He pulled you closer and you clung to him like he was the only thing preventing you from drowning. His tongue slid into your mouth, moving in expert ways only he could remember how to do after this long. You started to wrap your legs around his middle, when you realized you’d probably sink together out in the middle of the pool, thanks to you wading all the way out there. You finally parted with a big intake of breath, separating slightly so you could both stay afloat. 

Before he could say anything, you flipped some water up into his face. He shut his eyes with little amusement, and his pout made him look even cuter. When he opened them, the orange sun near setting reflected into his eyes, making them glow a brilliant gold. He was stunning. Everything about this was stunning.

“What was that for?” he asked, and you snapped out your trance-like state to remember that you’d splashed him with water. 

You did it again with a chuckle for an answer. Then he caught on. He pushed water in your direction, and you back to him. You were both shoving water at each other and laughing at your full on water fight, and then you got out and started running from the waterfall and toward the beach only a few yards away. He came after you and grabbed you from behind. You’re not sure how it happened, but you both ended up on the white sand with a shriek. You laid there with your back against his chest, eyes stinging from the salt water and breathing deeply. You both had sand all over you, but you didn’t want to move. And clearly, neither did he, because you both laid there until the sun went down. 

Goosebumps rose along your body as Spencer trailed his hands down your arms and side and back again. 

“We should get dried off,” he whispered in your ear. 

You nodded, “Yeah, it’s getting cold. But we don’t have any towels.”

“They’re in the car.” You smiled to yourself and got up off the beach, trailing Spencer back to the car, clothes in hand.

* * *

On the car ride back to the city, you told Spencer all the other cool beach things you would have wanted to introduce him to, like reading in the sun, drinking and eating under a cabana, and getting these mangos on a stick you could only seem to find in Mexico. 

He grinned at you the whole way back. 

He parked the car outside of his hotel, and offered to let you shower off before leaving. You couldn’t really go home to Jordan with a bunch of sand on you, so you accepted. You got in first and he got in after.

By the time he was done, you were fully dried with your clothes back on. He came out with only a towel wrapped around him. You guessed he really was trying everything to keep you here. The tension was palpable and you didn’t really know what to say to him.

_ Thanks for the amazing date, I had so much fun, okay bye? You were great and you are making it so hard to walk away right now but I’m going to, thanks anyways? _ You couldn’t say any of those, but luckily, he stepped in for you.

“I know,” he said with a nod.

“Spencer, I-”

“I know,” he repeated. His eyes were sad and his shoulders were slumped in defeat. It pained you to see him like this, especially after everything he’d done for you that evening, and how happy he’d been the whole time. “It’s okay, I get it. Jordan.”

_ Jordan. _ “Yeah,” it was barely a whisper. You walked toward the door and reached for the handle. And then you froze. You just froze in place, not being able to go any further. 

Then, without thinking, you turned around and pulled him towards you, pressing your lips to his. He seemed thrown by this, but only for a few moments, because he quickly melted into the kiss. You didn’t let it last long, pulling away without another look at him. He grabbed your hand and spun you around, giving you no choice but to raise your eyes to meet his. They looked a little red and a single tear ran down his cheek.

“Please. Don’t leave me, not again,” he begged. You were in agony even thinking about leaving him like this, but what else were you supposed to do? “Please don’t go (y/n).”

You didn’t know how to say no when he was at his lowest point and you were at your weakest. That’s not true. You did know how to say no, but not to him. You couldn’t. You didn’t want to. “I won’t.”

It was already too late by the time you realized you had fallen back in love with him.

* * *

You woke up on Spencer’s chest, sheets a tangled mess around you. The daylight hit your eyes through the crack in the hotel curtains, and you realized what you’d just done.

_ I slept with another man. A man that is not my fiance, a man that I am not going to marry in a week. What have I done? What was I thinking? _

But that’s the issue. You weren’t thinking. Being with Spencer didn’t require any thinking or effort or worry. It was easy. Yet nothing about waking up that morning with the guilt you felt was easy. You couldn’t stay there with Spencer for another moment knowing that you had to be the worst person on the planet at the moment. You threw your clothes on trying to control your panicked breathing, swiping at the moisture on your cheeks. 

_ What was I thinking? _

You scrambled to the door, making sure you had all of your belongings, and left. You made your way down the corridor to the sign that said ‘stairs’ across from a little sitting area near a large window. 

You had barely gotten the door open when a voice called out, “Where are you going?”

You turned and saw Spencer frantically coming towards you. The noise you made in your rush to leave must have woken him up. “One more night, right? That was the deal,” you stated coldly.

“That's not really all this was to you, was it?” he asked, his eyes looked at you with a mix of emotions you could only guess to be betrayal and hurt.

But you stood your ground, “This is wrong.”

He started shaking his head, “No-”

“I have to go,” you insisted, turning back to the door.

“It’s not wrong (y/n). You can’t look me in the eyes and tell me that what we have doesn’t feel right to you,” he pressed. There was an urgency in his voice you’d never really heard before. 

“Jordan’s probably waiting for me.”

“Is he?”

_ How dare he question my fiance he knows nothing about!  _ “Yes,” you spat, “because he’s an amazing man that I am going to  _ marry,  _ so I’m sorry, but I can’t do this.”

“That’s not really what you’re thinking is it,” he hissed back, stating it more than asking. You stood there staring at him, not giving him an answer. You knew you couldn’t lie to him. Profiler or not, he always knew what you were thinking. He continued, “Actually, I don’t even think you think this is wrong.”

“Yes I do. It’s not fair-” you tried.

“Who’re you trying to convince?” Spencer cut you off.

You laced your voice with venom when you responded, “Don’t presume to know me or what I think.” 

“Oh I’m not. You’re telling me that all by yourself,” he said as he quickly scanned you up and down.

“Don’t profile me.”

“I wasn’t trying to. I was merely trying to point out how, while even though you are trying to leave, you are oriented toward me. Your feet are still pointed towards me, along with your shoulders. If you really wanted to leave, you’d be facing the door. Your head is tilted slightly, you’re leaning forward, and despite your irritation, you aren’t fidgety. You’ve subconsciously mirrored some of my movements, fixed your hair, adjusted the sleeves on your shirt, and wetted your lips. Not to mention the dilation of your eyes-”

“Why, why are you pushing this?” It sounded more like a plea than anything.

His eyes softened along with his voice, “Because I want you. I want  _ to be _ with you, and I can’t let you slip through my fingers like last time. I am not going to make the same mistakes and I am not going to let my insecurities and uncertainties get in the way of us again.”

“Us?” your eyes bugging, “Spencer, there is no us.”

“How can you say that?” his voice seemed to raise an entire octave.

“Because there can’t be. I’m getting married in less than a week and I haven’t seen you in  _ years,  _ and then all the sudden you wanna give us another try? It didn’t work out the first time, what makes you think it will the second time?” you pressed.

“What makes you think it won't?”

“Don’t turn this on me.” You didn’t want him to avoid the question. It was a valid one, and one you’d always thought about when you heard of other on-and-off couples.

“We dated for about six years and never had any problems until I fucked it up. Had I stayed in contact, we’d probably still be together right now. Your turn,” he challenged, with fire in his eyes.

_ Fine. We can do it like this. _ “For starters, we are both stubborn and like to argue. We’ve seen and spent time together for a total of one day and two nights and we’ve already argued twice. Not to mention, we both have super time consuming jobs-”

“Which both you and Jordan do,” he interjected.

“-and we’ve both changed. We don’t know if we’re compatible anymore. Yes, we dated for six years, but then we spent six years apart. You can’t ask me to throw away a sure thing for a relationship I lost hope in a long time ago.”

“I can, and I am.” He said it with such confidence, it almost threw you off. Almost. 

“It’s too late.”

“It’s not, please, don’t go. Don’t make the same mistake I did. Don’t let your insecurities and uncertainties about us get in the way of what we have,” he faltered.

“And what is it we have exactly?” It was his turn to be silent, so you filled in for him. “With Jordan, I have no doubts. There is nothing complicated about him or what he and I have.”

“But do you love him like you loved me? Does he make you laugh after a long day at work? Does he go dancing with you even though he’s bad at it because he knows you love it? Does he know when to just sit there and hold you and when to encourage you to vent? Does he know that you are a morning person and love watching the sun rise even though you refuse to talk to anyone when you’ve just woken up? Does he burn the pancakes in the morning so that you can laugh and show him how it’s done? Does he know that after a bad day you like to eat breakfast for dinner because it’s your comfort food? And even though you’d never admit it, you secretly love those fake colored orchids? Does he make sure you rest when you overwork yourself so you don’t get a migraine? Does he know that you aren’t ticklish anywhere except on your left side? And can you tell him any and everything? Does he know that the only thing you hate more than stress is injustice? Can he make you feel as comfortable and stress free as I do? Can he give you that? Because I can, I know I can.” 

“Spencer, stop.” You were desperate for him to relieve you from the guilt you already felt. How could you walk away from him? But how could you not? 

But he wouldn’t stop, “I  _ have _ . And I’m asking for another chance to give you that again, to show you that I will for as long as you let me.” 

You offered one simple word in response, “Love.”

“What?” the confusion was obvious on his face.

“You said ‘like you loved me’. Love, Spencer. It’s not past tense,” you corrected. 

That stopped him dead in his tracks, “What’re you saying?”

You took a deep breath, “I’m saying that you have given me a lot to think about, and that I need time. I know I don’t have much, but I need tonight,  _ at least  _ tonight. Can you give me that?”   
“Yes,” he said, with no hesitation, “Of course.” You nodded, and turned back toward the staircase door as Spencer retreated, but he caught your attention one last time before you were out of earshot. “Oh, and (y/n)?”

“Yeah?” you said, peering over your shoulder.

“I love you too.”

* * *

You spent that night and the entire day following away from everyone. Jordan texted you to make sure you were okay, making a joke about getting cold feet. Which was not funny. You told him that you’d been slammed at work and were crashing at a co-worker, and close friend's apartment, which happened often. You two were looking over a case together, which was true, but in reality, you were sulking and they were very invested in your love life.

“‘But do you love him like you loved me?’ That’s very forward of him,” Ash spoke, taking a sip of their tea. 

“You don’t need to tell me that,” you reminded them.

“But like, you said you love him,” Ash beamed. “Then again, you have Jordan to think about, too.”

“Okay, first, I’m concerned that you are taking so much pleasure in my very complicated love life-”

“If by complicated you mean having two great guys pining over you, then sure. Extremely unfortunate,” Ash deadpanned.

You continued as if they hadn’t spoke, “-secondly, I didn’t exactly say I love you-”

“Still counts.”

“-and third, what am I supposed to do? I have a ring on my finger and I just slept with another man.”

“Another man that was your first love that you also said ‘I love you’ to,” Ash again pointed out.

“Please stop reminding me,” you groaned.

“And why shouldn’t I?”   
“Because I am freaking out and don’t know what to do! I can’t pretend like what happened with Spencer never happened, but I don’t think I can face Jordan, or tell him what happened, let alone  _ marry him _ after all of this,” you exclaimed, voice raising.

“Okay, I know this is stressful, but I need you to sit down, and calm down,” Ash sterly said, dropping all amusement from their voice. You hadn’t even realized you’d stood up. You eased yourself back onto the couch, and looked over at them.

You took a deep breath, “You’re right. Freaking out is not going to help me. Not like I know what actually will.”

“Well let me ask you this,” Ash said, sitting upright, “Was he right?”

“What?”   
“Was Spencer right? Does he give you things Jordan can’t? Does he make you feel more ‘at peace’ or however the hell he phrased it?” You opened your mouth to answer, but they cut you off right as you were about to speak, “And don’t lie. This is me trying to help you through your feelings, and telling me what you think is socially acceptable to say is not going to help anyone. Especially not you.”

“In a sense,” you shrugged.

“Okay, I guess I wasn’t clear. These are yes or no questions,” they clarified.

“How can they be? Relationships are not black and white, there is so much more to them!” you huffed.

“That’s true. But what  _ is _ black and white is who you love more.” You started shaking your head profusely in denial. “I’m serious (y/n). You know you love one more than you love the other. You know who you feel more comfortable and more safe around. You know who you feel like you can tell anything without being judged. And most importantly, you know who you feel the most like yourself around, and who makes you feel like the best and brightest version of yourself. You just aren’t ready to admit that to yourself, because either way, you’re hurt and they’re hurt. But you know,” Ash insisted.

“Ash, I can’t,” you whispered.

“You can, you will, and you have to. Just remember it’s not fair to either of them for you to string them along. It’s better to tell them. You have to just go for it,” they urged.

You groaned. “What do I even say? How am I supposed to do this?”

“Well, you are going to put on your grown ass adult undies, and figure it out,” Ash spoke to you like you were a child, “Now get the fuck outta my place, you’ve been here far too long and have overstayed your welcome. And don’t you dare lie to them either because you think it’s the right thing to do. For once in your goddamn life (y/l/n), do the right thing for you.” And with that, they shoved you out of their apartment with your things, and locked the door in your face. 

* * *

You got in your car and threw your things in the back. You sat there for a moment before screaming at the top of your lungs. You pounded on and shook the steering wheel, until you’d run out of breath. 

Being in love with two men who also loved you at the exact same time was  _ nothing  _ like it was portrayed in the movies. It absolutely sucked. You couldn’t see how there was any possible way that the people in those movies ended up with a fairy-tale ending, because all you could see right now was broken hearts for at least two out of the three of you. You were going to be hurting either way, but the real question was how you would hurt the least. 

Which is the exact thought on your mind as you pulled your car out of the apartment complex parking lot, and started driving. 

_ For once in your goddamn life, do the right thing for you. _

You were already halfway to your destination before you’d consciously made the decision to go there. You pulled up and parked your car outside. You walked up the stairs to the door and then stopped. Knocking on this door meant committing to a decision that would alter the rest of your life. You bit back the tears threatening to overflow, sure that you had made the right decision even though it physically pained you to hurt him. You took a deep breath, put a smile on your face and knocked.

The door swung open as if he’d been expecting you. You quickly embraced him, taking in his scent and basking in the comfort of his arms. Pulling away, you looked into those twinkling eyes staring back at you with adoration, which assured you that you’d made the right decision. 

With a pounding heart and a weight lifted off your shoulders, you confessed, “I choose you.”


	3. Payphone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After dropping everything to be with Spencer, you start to wonder if you made the right choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the song “Payphone” by Maroon 5. If you wanna give that a quick listen, go for it, if not, that’s chill too. Also, I tried to make this gender neutral, but if I did not, please let me know what I need to correct. Also, I’m not a therapist, so I don’t actually know what questions they would ask, what advice they would give, or how they would handle this situation.

_ How did I end up here? _ That was the main thought running through your head as you sat on the couch opposite the older woman in pointed framed glasses.

Her whispery voice traveled the space between you and pulled you back to real time. “So, how are you?”

You couldn’t help but make a snappy remark back. To be fair, you’d had plenty of practice lately. Plus, you were at a therapist’s office for Chrissake. She couldn’t really believe the answer to that question was going to be positive, could she? “Oh, you mean besides the fact that my best friend and love just said ‘fuck you’ to my face and then said he never wanted to see me again, storming out of my apartment with his keys to my place flying at my head? I’d say I’m doing fantastic.”

You could tell she was trying to hold a composed face, but you saw the slight exhaustion, and some disappointment, flash across her features. “Y/N, we don't have time for jokes. How'd the two of you end up there?”  _ That’s what I’d like to know. _

You sighed, “Well long story short, my relationship with Spencer ended on poor terms, I got engaged to Jordan, essentially cheated on him with Spencer, broke off the engagement to be with Spencer, and then that pretty much went to shit as well. Then you know the rest.”

She mirrored your sigh, but said in a soothing voice, “You’re not paying me to help you deal with the short version. Where do you stand with Spencer now?”

You wanted to laugh in her face, “Did you not hear the part about the keys at my head and the never wanting to see me again?”

She gave you a stern, cold look. “Y/N.”

“I know I’m sorry,” you apologized. You just couldn’t help it. Those types of snappy remarks had become a bit of a habit, to the point where it was clearly an unfiltered natural reaction. “That’s not the only thing that’s gone wrong lately, but it really just seems like the last straw.”

She leaned in toward you slightly, a wide open invitation. “Tell me about that.”

> “I choose you.” The widest grin you could have imagined spread across Spencer’s face and he quickly pulled you into a kiss. It was almost frantic, like if he didn’t do it immediately you would change your mind. You wouldn’t. 
> 
> Until, maybe, you would. From the moment he kissed you until the moment you ended up in a therapist’s office, things were frantic. For a while, it was a fun frantic. You moved into your own apartment (you both agreed it was too soon to live together), and you spent as much time as you could together. Between Spencer’s travels and your time commitment to the courtroom, you didn’t have a ton of time, but anything you could get, you took advantage of. Movie nights in on the couch, date nights out to restaurants, mid-day picnics, late night walks, and one of your favorite events yet, clubbing and drinking with his team. You finally got to meet them again, this time on much better terms, and couldn’t help but fall more in love with Spencer seeing how much he loved his team. He would do anything for them, and according to Derek, he looked at you the same way. That’s why you thought it would be a good idea to take the FBI prosecuting job when it was offered to you. You quickly learned that was not the right decision.

“And why is that?” your therapist, Lori, asked. 

“I don’t know. I guess working with your significant other is never a good idea,” you shrugged.

“While that is usually true, I’ve seen plenty of successful workplace romances. Is that what you think was the turning point?” Lori prompted.

“I guess. The first thing was how Spencer reacted to me taking the job.”

> You thought it would be a nice surprise. You know, like ‘surprise baby, we are going to get to see each other more often’ or something of the like. But when you told Spencer, that was not his reaction at all. He looked shocked, then disappointed.
> 
> “What? I thought this would be good news,” you asked, confused.
> 
> “Yeah, yes. It is,” he floundered. You knew he was lying, it wasn’t hard to tell. “I’m happy for you.”
> 
> Sure, maybe you shouldn't have pushed it, but his disappointment hurt. It felt as if he didn’t want to see and spend more time with you. “Are you? You don’t act like it.”
> 
> “I am.”
> 
> “What did I do? What is it about me taking this job that doesn’t sit right with you?” It was a reasonable question, in your opinion.
> 
> Spencer dismissively shrugged, “It just doesn’t sound like the type of thing you’d be interested in.” 
> 
> You cocked an eyebrow, trying to remain as calm as you could, “What is that supposed to mean?”
> 
> “Nothing. Just thought you were the type that ‘liked to stand up for the little guy’ or whatever,” Spencer half mumbled. 
> 
> You weren’t sure what had gotten his panties in a wad, and the only thing you could think of was, “Did you have a bad case?”
> 
> He turned on you, “Oh, come on, Y/N, really?”
> 
> This infuriated you even more. “I just can’t come up with another reason as to why you’re being so weird about this. Seriously, Spencer, what’s the problem? Because if it’s not the case, then it’s the job, and I can’t figure out what’s so wrong with that. What’s wrong with that Spencer?” You heard it before he even accused you of it. You knew how your voice sounded when you were in the courtroom speaking in front of a jury, and so did Spencer. 
> 
> “Don’t interrogate me, Y/N,” he spat, and turned to walk away from you.
> 
> “I wouldn’t have to if you’d just answer my questions,” you fired back. 
> 
> He spun on his heels with a new fire in his eyes you could tell he was trying to douse. “I just thought you would have talked to me about it first, that’s all.”
> 
> “I didn’t think I’d have to because I thought this would be good news,” you tried to explain.
> 
> “You didn’t think you should talk to me about it first?” Spencer’s voice got higher, as did his anger. 
> 
> _ I don’t need to consult you about my life. Don’t try to control me!  _ You kept those thoughts to yourself, instead responding with, “No. It’s my career and I made what I thought would be the best decision.”
> 
> “Well if that’s your view on how relationships work, only making the best decision for you, then maybe I need to reevaluate my own decisions.” That one hurt. That comment went straight through your chest, and for a split second, before remembering what was actually going on, you thought that he’d make a really good lawyer, able to make such harsh comments with such a low, icy tone.
> 
> He turned to walk away again when you yelled after him, knowing damn well that he was close to a breaking point if you just pushed a little harder, hoping for some answers. “Why don’t you want me in the FBI, Spencer?”
> 
> “Because it’s the one place that I feel at home and I don’t need other people getting involved in that!”
> 
> You gaped at him. You just stood there and stared at him. Then, without another word, you went to pick up your stuff from off the floor, and marched toward the door. Spencer quickly stopped you. “I’m sorry.”
> 
> You didn’t look at him as you tried to push by him, “You said what you said.” And you both knew what he meant, but didn’t say, too.
> 
> “I didn’t mean it,” he tried to remedy the situation.
> 
> You looked him dead in the eyes, “Really? So can you look me in the eyes and truthfully tell me that you don’t think I’ll be encroaching on your space if I take this job? Can you tell me that the reason you don’t want me taking this job is  _ not _ because you enjoy having the FBI as a private place all to yourself away from me, a place that makes you feel at home when apparently I don’t? Can you really tell me those things aren’t true?” His silence was all you needed before you walked out.

“So  _ you  _ walked out?” Lori confirmed.

“The first time,” you answered, your voice a low growl.

“How did you two work that out?” she asked.

“We didn’t talk for about a day or two. I still took the job because if I didn’t, I wouldn’t have a job. He apologized again and told me some bullshit about being excited for me, just being caught off guard, and we moved past it,” you recited, waving your hand in the air as if that would actually clear the memory from your mind.

“How was it actually working with him?”

“Well, we weren’t exactly working together. I got cases from all over the bureau, so things went back to normal. Sure, it was easier for us to head over to the other’s floor on a break, or go eat lunch together, and things like that, but our time commitments to our jobs were the same as before. The most we interacted during work was when I was prosecuting someone the BAU had caught, and I needed clarification or one of them to testify.”

Lori shifted in her seat, “Did you usually ask Spencer for help with those things?”

“Depends,” you raised your eyebrows quickly, “Did we just fight or not?”

“So the fighting was constant?”

“I guess you could say that,” you huffed. “It went in waves for a while, then got progressively worse.”

“What caused it to get progressively worse?” Lori wondered.

“I didn’t figure this out until later, but it was the anniversary of his girlfriend's death that was the real beginning of the end for us.” 

Lori furrowed her brow, “Do you know which anniversary?”

You gave her a dark, tight-lipped smile, “The one-year anniversary.”

“And how long had the two of you been together?” You could see the gears spinning in her head, trying to do the math. 

“Eight months.” Her eyes went wide as you saw her put the same pieces together, just as you had. She gave you a curious look, mixed with sympathy, and you nodded. “Yeah. I know.” 

“Did you talk about this?” she asked.

“Talk wouldn’t exactly be the word I’d use, no,” you quipped. “But we definitely discussed it.”

> You found out from Emily. It was an innocent mistake. Spencer had been acting off, keeping to himself more, going to work early, staying super late. Sometimes he slept in the office and didn’t come home at all. Sure, the two of you weren’t ‘living together’ but you spent a healthy portion at the other’s place. Except, then you weren’t. 
> 
> Spencer had told you about his past with drug abuse, and how his mom was getting worse, so it wasn’t hard for you to put two and two together and jump to the worst conclusion. Of course, while you're fantastic at what you do, and you  _ do  _ rely on certain non-verbal cues to help you out on the job, you aren’t a trained profiler. Luckily for you, you knew a team of them that also happened to know your Spencer, working only a floor above you. 
> 
> You were worried, so you asked them if they’d noticed anything. They told you that, while they didn’t know his mom was getting worse, they did know he wasn’t back on drugs. Derek had had the same thought and paid extra attention to him, and was confident that wasn’t what was happening. You were desperate, so you asked them if they could think of anything else that could have him acting like this. That’s when Emily suggested something about ‘wait, isn’t it close to the anniversary of Maeve’s … you know.’ You didn’t know, but a lightbulb went off in JJ’s head. She agreed with Emily and said that had to be what was getting him down. When their attention was back on you, they realized that you were absolutely in the dark about whatever they were talking about.
> 
> “The anniversary of whose what?” you demanded.
> 
> “Oh, uh, forget we mentioned it. I’m sure Spencer will tell you in his own time,” JJ attempted.
> 
> You narrowed your eyes at her. “We’re both still talking about Spencer here, right?”
> 
> Her, Emily, and Derek passed looks between them before Emily gave you the very short version of what had happened. You were shocked, and honestly, you felt betrayed. You asked them the same questions Dr. Lori had asked you, which only increased the betrayal you felt. 
> 
> “So you’re saying that Spencer’s girlfriend got killed right in front of him only  _ four months _ before he came running back to me?” you confirmed. All they could do was look down and nod. You gasped, “Well, that is  _ certainly _ good information to know.”
> 
> You couldn’t stand to be around anyone just then, and started walking away when you heard Derek call after you, “Hey, Y/N, wait.” You were already at the elevator when he jogged up to you. “I know that comes as a bit of a shock,” you raised your eyebrows at him, “Ok, a lot of a shock. But he was hurting and you were the best thing that could have come around at that time.”
> 
> “That’s the thing, though. I didn’t just ‘come around.’ He purposely came after me. Those are two very different things.” He was about to interject, but you put up a hand. “I know that he’s a good guy, and I know that he was hurting,  _ is _ still hurting, but that doesn’t give him any right to toy with other people’s emotion, and other people’s lives.”

“Is that still how you feel?” Dr. Lori asked. 

“To an extent, yeah,” you nodded. She looked at you with soft eyes, letting the silence hang between you. You felt like you already knew the answer to the question you were about to ask, but you hoped Lori could provide some sort of confirmation. Confirmation that Spencer didn’t give. “Do you think he was only with me because she died? Do you think the only reason he came back for me, and essentially wrecked my life in the first place, is because the person he truly loves is dead?”

“I cannot tell you what is or was going through Spencer’s mind,” Lori reminded me.

“Ok, well then, in your professional opinion, what do you think?” Again, you were desperate and needed some answers.

“What did Spencer tell you? Have you asked  _ him  _ that question?”

> You’d asked him. Of course, that was in the heat of the moment, and you could only remember certain things you both said and probably in the wrong order, but you remember what his response was. 
> 
> “Were you ever going to tell me?” Your voice was surprisingly calm. Usually, you’d be a lot more mad at him, but all those other times you had something to fight for. Something to really be mad about if things went poorly. Now, though, you didn’t know what was left to fight for or get upset over. Without fully acknowledging your own thoughts, you’d already given up.
> 
> “Eventually,” Spencer responded.
> 
> “I don’t think you were,” you said, sadly. You’d been thinking about how to approach this conversation since you’d found out, analyzing him and the situation, going over all of your thoughts a thousand times before you finally let them all out. “I think that I remind you of a better time. I think that when we were together, that was the first time, and maybe only relationship, that really went right for you. I think that after the pain and grief that you still haven’t fully processed, I seemed like an easy fix. I could fill the void, and somehow, maybe, just maybe, I could transport you back to a time before the pain of the BAU, before the pain of Tobias Hankle, before the pain of Maeve Donovan, and you could pretend like all of that hadn’t happened. But then, you started to realize that things weren’t as perfect as you remember. We are not the same people we used to be, we never will be, and I couldn’t wipe away everything that happened, I only started hindering the good. You lost all of the good you’ve come to depend on, Spencer. I brought you back to a time when you weren’t the genius doctor in the highest unit of the FBI, a time when you weren’t saving people, and hunting criminals. That’s why you wanted the FBI all to yourself, and you did everything in your power to keep me, and your new life at the FBI separate, including Maeve. And you know what else I think? I think that somewhere in that big brain of yours, you knew all of this, too. I think you knew that you were transferring and using me as a temporary fix. But what about me, Spencer? I walked away from an engagement because I thought all of this was sincere. Yes, that was my choice, but you also made the choice to come to me, regardless of your motives. And somehow, I think you knew this was destined to fail. I should have seen it, too.”
> 
> “Well, we all made our choices,” Spencer snapped.
> 
> You nodded, clenching your jaw at his deflective statement. “Yeah. We did.” You waited for him to leave like he always did, but he didn’t. He just kept standing there. Against your better judgement, you had to ask the question you’d been wanting to ask since you found out about Maeve. “Am I her replacement?”
> 
> “What?” Spencer asked. His head snapped up to yours, eye refocusing, and you would have paid anything to know what was going through his mind before you pulled him back to reality. 
> 
> “Are we only here because you lost her?” Despite your voice cracking, there was a certain power behind your words.
> 
> “Why does that matter?” Spencer asked.
> 
> _ Why does that matter? _ You couldn’t even believe he would ask you something like that, and you opened the floodgates on him. “It matters because it means that you don’t actually want to be with me! It means that you are using me to distract you and make yourself feel better instead of dealing with your shit. I gave up everything for you, just to find out this isn’t real! And what has it cost you, Spencer!”
> 
> “How can you say that? I’ve made just as many sacrifices for this relationship as you have!” Spencer yelled back.
> 
> “Like what? Name one thing, Spencer!” He stood there in silence. You snarled, “Exactly! The only things you’ve given up were your ‘ownership’ over the FBI, and Maeve, neither of which you willingly sacrificed.”
> 
> “Maybe you’re right, then,” Spencer’s voice dropped to that bone-chilling tone, sending a shiver down your spine. “Maybe I’m not cut out for relationships. My past has certainly told me that. So yeah, I guess I did know this would fail going into it. But maybe it failed because I’m with you and not with her.”
> 
> You let out a single bitter laugh. “I’m sure that’s the reason, Spencer. I’m sure that you wake up every morning and look at me and wish you could’ve gotten to Maeve just a moment sooner, huh?”
> 
> It was like cross examining a suspect on the stand. You find their most sensitive button, and you just keep pushing it until you get a confession. “No. I wish I would have followed through on my deal to take her place.”
> 
> Time seemed to stop. The earth had completely halted on its axis, tearing the fabric of your reality out of the ground and sending it flying. It would have hurt less had he simply ripped your heart out of your body and smashed it under the sole of his shoe. You couldn’t stop and think about what you were saying before it flew out of your mouth. “Then I guess you’re real happy you know where to get the drugs that can help you finally do that.”
> 
> “Fuck you!” Spencer yanked open the door to your apartment, fished the keys you gave him out of his pocket, and threw them as hard as he could at you. You ducked out of the way and heard the small dent you later found out they made in the wall behind you. “I never want to see you again!”
> 
> He slammed the door and that was the last you’d heard of him.

“So yeah, I asked him the question. I’ve thought about that for days on end and I can’t figure out how much of that was the truth, and how much of that was just anger buildup that took over in the moment,” you admitted.

“You said it’s been days since this happened?” Lori confirmed.

“More like weeks.”

“Why’d you decide to come in now?” she wondered.

“I tried dealing with it on my own. It started to distract me from my work, so I decided I needed help figuring out how to move past this.” 

“Have you talked to anyone else besides me about this?” When you gave her an odd look, she explained, “I’m just wondering who else, if anyone, is in your support system.”

“Not really. I briefly talked to an old coworker and friend of mine, Ash, but I didn’t talk to them long. We’re both really busy,” you explained. “Normally I would talk to Jordan about this stuff, but…”

“Ahh, yes,” the doctor remembered, “Jordan. How is he?”

“I wouldn’t know. I’m not really in the habit of reaching out to my ex-fiance about how he’s doing since I broke up with him,” you stated flatly.

“How  _ did  _ the break up go?”

> The break up made you question yourself, yet again. You always knew you didn’t deserve Jordan. He was always there for you, through thick and thin, through all your highs and lows. And as a lawyer, there were a lot of those. He could empathize and understand your job and everything that came with it better than anyone. You were both a crying wreck when you broke up with him. He was heartbroken, but took it with such grace that you almost immediately wanted to take it all back. You told him that you loved him, you really did, you still do, but that you didn’t think it was fair to him to be with someone who also had feelings for another. He didn’t push you or ask too many questions, but he did ask why he wasn’t good enough. You couldn’t give him an answer. On paper, he was the perfect guy, and in reality, he was pretty damn close. But you just didn’t feel the same things with him as strongly as you felt them with Spencer. You kept apologizing and he kept crying until he walked you out the door. 

“Looking back, how do you feel about that?” Lori asked. 

“Well, we all make our choices, right?” The irony was too good not to take advantage of. 

Lori gave you a pointed look. “That didn’t answer the question.”

“Because I don’t know how to answer it. I made what I thought was going to be a good decision in the moment, but I just don’t believe that anymore.” Saying that out loud lifted a weight from your shoulders.

“Tell me why you made that decision in the first place,” Lori prompted.

That was an easy question, actually. You thought back to when Spencer first came back to you, asking you out on a date in your office, and couldn’t help but smile a little. “I made that decision because Spencer was my first love. He came waltzing back into my life and, once we’d sorted out the rocky way we’d ended things, it was like no time had passed. He was still my best friend, the nerdy, brilliant, sweet guy that invited me to the library when he wanted to spend time with me. He took me on this endearing date, where he literally pulled out all the stops, and before I knew it, I was quickly falling back in love with him. I don’t know, he just makes me feel all these things that I’ve never felt before or after him. I’ve had strong feelings for others, but there’s nothing like the intoxicating energy of just being around him. It’s like floating and drowning all at the same time, and I-” you stopped abruptly after realizing you were rambling, saying all the things you hadn’t even realized had been rolling around in your head like a hamster ball. 

Lori was looking at you with a little smirk on her face. “What?”

Her smile widened just a little, “What do you want, Y/N?” You opened your mouth to respond and she clarified, “What do you  _ really  _ want? No sarcastic quips, as fun as those are to hear.”

You took a deep inhale, “I want things to work out.” It was the first time you admitted that to anyone. You hadn’t even admitted it yourself, not even in your head. 

“But..?” 

“But I just don’t know if all the good is worth the energy it takes to deal with all the bad. And when things are bad, they get  _ really  _ bad.”

“I’m not going to lie to you, Y/N. All couples have problems. Sure, yours are very… unique, but I’ve seen couples get back together after similar or worse fights. What I’ve never seen is a person gush that much about their partner right after that harsh of a break up. I am not here to tell you what your feelings are, and I certainly cannot tell you what Spencer’s are, but if he talks about you the same way you talk about him, I think that the two of you can make things work. There are always going to be lows, and if you later decide that you simply cannot endure them anymore, then that is your right, and you will continue to make what you believe to be the right decision in that moment. But if what you really want is to make things work, then I would say you make the effort to make things work,” she advised.

That was great and all, but you couldn’t even begin to wonder where to start. So you asked, “How?” 

She gave you one simple step. “Start by talking to Spencer.”


	4. Love Somebody

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After your big fight, both you and Spencer are filled with guilt. Is there any way to salvage your relationship?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the song “Love Somebody” by Maroon 5. If you wanna give that a quick listen, go for it, if not, that’s chill too. Also, I tried to make this gender neutral, but if I did not, please let me know what I need to correct.

_ Start by talking to Spencer. _

You’d been mulling over those five words for days now and it was driving you absolutely insane. The whole reason you wanted to talk to a therapist in the first place was so you could find some peace and be able to focus better at work. Instead, you were even more distracted than you had been before, thinking about all of the different ways that the conversation could go.

_ Start by talking to Spencer. Oh yeah, sure, I’ll just talk to him. You know, like ‘hey, Spence, remember when you said you never wanted to see me again? Well I’m here now because I wanted to see you and work things out.’  _ Like what? That was never going to work.

_ Hey Spencer. I know it’s been a over a month since we talked and we basically broke up and the last thing I said to you was about your drug addiction, but- _

Your mind faltered at the thought. It was painful to go back there and remember how cruel you’d been to each other, and then another thought popped into your mind.  _ Is he back on drugs? Oh god, could he be passed out somewhere? _

You shot straight out of your chair before thinking through what you were doing. What would you even do if you showed up and he was just fine? Plus, it’d been a month, you were sure his team could handle whatever was going on with him. Then you started wondering how he’d been handling everything. You certainly hoped better than you had. Than you  _ were _ . Maybe his team would know. You weren’t super close with them, but close enough you could ask them, right? No, definitely not. Actually, now that you were thinking about it, you hadn’t seen any of them for a really long time. Not even accidental run-ins with them coming or going from work or in the break room. You started to wonder what they were up to. What  _ he _ was up to. 

* * *

Spencer felt awful. The moment he slammed the door to his own apartment after your big fight he broke down into a heap of tears. So much had happened over the past 13 months, and the full weight of it all was just now coming down on him. He lost Maeve. He found you. He lost you. He lost himself. 

Spencer never thought he would say things like that. He never thought that he could be so cruel as to tell the person he loved that he would have rather died for his ex-girlfriend than be with them. Granted, he never thought you would say what you said either, but perhaps he deserved it. He’d treated you poorly leading up to that, and he’s a profiler, it shouldn’t have come as a shock. But it did. Because he was blind. All the pain and trauma and desperate attempts to stitch his life back together using your needle and thread blinded him. He couldn’t see how much you were doing for him and how much you were struggling to keep your relationship together, and he couldn’t force himself to see how much he was struggling to hang on to any semblance of the past. Any semblance of a normal, trauma-free life. He couldn’t see it. He refused to see it. And it cost him.

He took the rest of the week off and then the weekend to himself, fighting a constant battle between feeling pathetic for not being able to go into work like you probably had, and feeling like he made the right choice considering he could barely force himself to eat. He blamed you, he blamed himself, he blamed the whole damn universe for constantly fucking him over. He used Maeve and his social awkwardness and his past as excuses for his behavior, and immediately hated himself for it. He hated himself even more for fantasizing about doing exactly what you’d told him to. He knew who to call, he knew he probably still had a tourniquet around his apartment somewhere, and he knew how much it would hurt you to know that the last thing you said to him came true. 

_ Then I guess you’re real happy you know where to get the drugs that can help you finally do that. _

He hated you. No, that wasn’t it. He hated that he drove you to hate him. Did you hate him? He figured you had to after everything he put you through. And for what? So he could feel better after what he’d lost? So he could ignore the grief and the sorrow and bury it in your selfless compassion? So he could, as you said, rip apart your life?

No, that couldn’t be the end. He couldn’t have yanked you from your life for nothing. He had to make it up to you. But he didn’t even know where to start. You probably didn’t even want to see him, let alone give him the air space to explain himself. He deserved as much. 

But you didn’t. You didn’t deserve that, he kept repeating to himself. He was going to make it up to you somehow. You were the most important thing in his life, one of the only people who supported him through everything, and he cared about you, more than anything. And he loved you. He would not have the last thing he said to you be ‘fuck you.’ But first, he had to make it through his first day back to work.

No one questioned him. No one said anything about his absence, and he was both grateful and irritated. Grateful that he didn’t have to explain himself, but irritated that it seemed like no one cared. Maybe he’d gotten too used to that, no one seeming to care. Maybe that’s why whenever you asked him how he was doing, and pushed him for more than a simple ‘fine,’ he felt like you were interrogating him. He wasn’t used to having to communicate like that, especially about his feelings, which he’d  _ never _ been able to communicate well. Not like he’d ever practiced that. Not like dad stuck around long enough to have him practice that. Not like his mother ever noticed or remembered long enough to make him practice that. Not like any of the people he considered family ever pushed him far enough to practice that. The most frustrating part was that even Spencer didn’t know which way he preferred to go about it, talking or not talking. Neither, he supposed. 

But, communication is key, something you seemed to understand to a nauseating degree, and a concept his big brain couldn’t seem to wrap around. 

He didn’t see you at all that first day. Or that first week. Or that first month. He started wondering if you’d requested a transfer to a different field office, or maybe asked for your old job back. He wouldn’t know either way. He could ask you, but that would require actually talking to you, something he’d been trying to force himself to do for what felt like forever. 

The first time anyone actually questioned his behavior was when the team got back from a case and were headed out for drinks. He declined the offer, making up some excuse about a head start on paperwork. The team exchanged some glances before packing into the elevator, leaving him alone with his thoughts, an occasion that was becoming way too frequent for Spencer’s liking. 

He’d just started reading through his third file when the sound of the glass doors swinging open caught his attention. 

A very colorful Penelope marched over to him in what he thought would be uncomfortably high heels. She grabbed the rolly chair from the desk next to him, rolled it over to his desk, and plopped down right in front of him. 

“What is going on with you, my Boy Wonder?” she asked in a soft, yet demanding voice. 

Spencer shrugged, “What do you mean?”

Penelope gave him a pointed look. “I thought you and Y/N really liked coming out with us?”

“Not tonight.” Spencer kept his answers short, not wanting to lie to one of his best friends, but also not wanting to get into it. 

Penelope reached out for Spencer’s hands which he hadn’t realized were trembling until then. She kept them tightly pressed between her own and looked him straight in the eyes. “I know I’m not a profiler, but it doesn’t take one to know when a friend is hurting. If you don’t want to talk about it, you don’t have to. I just want you to know that I’m always here and ready to listen.”

Spencer swallowed the lump in his throat, feeling the water brimming at the surface. He nodded at her, and she gave his hands one good squeeze before releasing them. She waited for a few moments longer, hoping that he’d decide to say something but he didn’t. 

It wasn’t until she’d almost reached the doors to leave when he called her name. “Penelope?”

She turned around and took a couple steps back toward him. “Yes?”

Then, in one quick motion, he stood up and enveloped her in a hug. Tears were already flowing down his face as Penelope held him as tight as she could, wanting him to know that she was going to support him no matter what. “Shh,” she tried to comfort him, moving her hands in soft strokes up and down his back, “It’s going to be okay.”

“It’s not,” Spencer’s voice cracked, “I messed it all up.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Penelope cooed. “Would you tell me about it?”

He told her everything. How you’d gotten the job at the FBI, how you constantly fought, how his mother started getting worse, how you found out about Maeve, and how you’d left each other that last time. He was a blubbering mess spouting about how much he still cared about you and how he’d certainly screwed it up, and Penelope tried to keep her composure, even as she felt all of his pain so deeply. “Nothing is irreparable, Spencer. If you really love Y/N that much, I think you should try to make it work.”

“But I’m not sure if they still love me.”

“I’m willing to bet they do.”

“How can you say that? You didn’t see them the last time we fought. I think I might have really destroyed us.”

“Because I’ve seen the way they look at you. If after everything you’ve been through together, you still feel this strongly for them, I bet they feel just as strongly for you. You know what, I bet Y/N is having all the same thoughts you’re having right now. If you really want to be with them, you should talk to them,” Penelope encouraged.    
“What would I even say?”

“Exactly what you said to me.” Spencer gave her a questioning look. “About how much you love and miss them. And how much you want to make it work.”

She gave him a soft smile and he sighed. “You think that will work?”

“I think that it’s the best thing you can do.”

* * *

You were sitting in your car outside of Spencer’s apartment trying to talk yourself up. You could do this. You could knock on his door and talk to him like an adult. You could tell him how much you wanted things to work out. This is what you wanted, and even if it went horribly, you knew that it would put your mind more at ease knowing where he stood. 

You walked confidently up to his door, but right as you were about to knock, you panicked. God, maybe it was better to just leave things as they were and see if he came to your first. Yes, that was a good plan, you could just wait and see what Spencer wanted.

You hadn’t driven all the way over to his apartment just to chicken out at the door, though. You knew that for better or worse you needed answers, so in a bout of confidence, you knocked on his door. Then you waited. And waited. And waited. After about five minutes, you knocked again, calling his name, but there was no answer. 

You let out a sigh of relief. It seemed like a sign from the universe or whatever that this just wasn’t meant to happen. Or maybe Spencer was inside waiting for you to leave, and that would be answer enough. Either way, you only had one place to go from there, and it was back to your apartment. You wished you would have been able to talk to him, but you didn’t want to do it over the phone and you definitely weren’t going to do it at work, so you felt like the opportunity had been missed.

At least, that was your theory as you climbed the stairs to your apartment, nearly getting run over on your way up. 

“Oh god, I’m so sorry!” Spencer exclaimed.  _ Spencer? _

“Spencer, what are you doing here?” you asked, taking the final steps up to the landing now that Spencer had moved aside to give you the room.

“Oh, um, I was here because, um, I wanted to talk to you.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I-I wanted to apologize. For everything. For the way I handled our last argument, a-all of our arguments, but especially that one. I realized that I had been trying to use you to cover up the grief I was feeling, and I know how wrong of me that was. It wasn’t fair to you, any of it. I know that you know how bad I am at expressing my feelings, and how I’m even worse at talking about them. I’m trying to get better. You don’t owe me anything, and I understand if you don’t want to, but I want to try again. I know it will take a while for you to trust me again, but, Y/N, you make me want to be better. I want to be better for you. You make me feel whole, a-and I know that it’s not fair of me to put that on you either! But it’s true. I love you, and if you’ll have me, I want to try again.”

You stared at him as you tried to process everything he was saying, his demeanor getting more nervous by the second. Then, at the irony of it all, you started laughing. Which was definitely the wrong approach to the situation, but before Spencer could get really uncomfortable, you explained, “I just came from your place to tell you the exact same thing.”

His eyes got wide, and a shy smile crept its way onto Spencer's face. “Really?”

“Yeah, really. I hate fighting with you, and miss being around you. I’ve been driving myself crazy these past few weeks going over and over what I said to you, and I know I can’t take it back, but I want you to know that I regret it, so, so much, Spencer. It wasn’t right of me to expect so much out of you after everything you’d been through. Everything you’re  _ going  _ through. I want to make this work.”

“Me too,” Spencer said with a sheepish smile. “I know that I’ve been trying to make this into our old dynamic, and you were right when you said that we don’t really know each other for who we are now. So I want to start all the way over, if that’s alright with you. I want to get to know Y/N Y/L/N, the successful FBI lawyer, not Y/N Y/L/N the person I used to know from high school.” You nodded your head, a curve to your lips. “Well, then if you don’t mind, I’d like to introduce myself.”

You pressed your lips together, unsuccessfully holding back the small laugh as Spencer walked a few paces from you, just to turn around and walk back toward you. He extended his hand and you reached out to shake it. “Hello. I’m Spencer Reid.”

“Y/N Y/L/N. It’s good to meet you, sir.” You bit your bottom lip, knowing exactly how he’d respond.

“Actually, it’s Doctor.”

You feigned surprise. “Wow, doctor, huh? What do you do, Doctor Spencer Reid? Are you a surgeon of some kind?”

He gave a small laugh, trying to compose himself. “No, actually, I work for the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI.”

“That’s impressive. You know, I actually work for the FBI as well.”

“Really?” he asked, eyes going wide.

“Yes. I’m a lawyer, but just recently started working for them. I worked for a successful firm just before this.”

“Wow, that sounds very interesting,” he enthusiastically said, eyes shining. “Now, I’m usually not this bold, but I saw you from over there,” he gestured to the spot behind him he’d just come from, “and I must say that you are very attractive. I would love to take you out for dinner and get to know you better sometime…” he trailed off.

“Sounds amazing Doctor,” you agreed.

As he started idly moving around you to get to the stairs, he said, “Well, it’s been really great meeting you Y/N Y/L/N, the FBI lawyer, and I’m excited to get to know you better.”

“As am I, Doctor Spencer Reid of the BAU,” you grinned. God, you two were so cheesy.

“I hope that I will get a call from you soon,” he mirrored your grin, but his voice was a bit less confident than it was before.

“You might not have to hope for too much longer.”

Spencer tugged his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes wide and sparkling. He looked like your Spencer, the Spencer you’d fallen in love with.

He practically skipped down the steps, pausing only momentarily to glance back up at you. He shook his head in disbelief and smiled to himself as he travelled the rest of the way down, and you looked after him with fondness in your eyes. You’d have to say, this was so much better than all the other times you had to watch Spencer walk away. This time, you were overwhelmed with hope for what this new beginning would mean for your relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the fourth and final part of this mini-series! I hope you all enjoyed it! Much love!


End file.
